I know why the rum is gone
by LJacks121
Summary: This just sorta came out. Crack, anyone? ...Rated T for strong language. Includes smatterings of Calvin & Hobbes, Peanuts, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and I don't even know what. Could get insanely stupid.


[Set at any point after Season 4, Ep. 7 - "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester"]

...

Dean snickered. "You're Charlie Brown."

"Why am I Charlie Brown?" Sam frowned as he examined his Wikipedia page.

"No, no, you're right. You're actually Linus," Dean mused.

Sam regarded him severely. "If I'm Charlie Brown, you're definitely Peppermint Patty."

"Then you're Marcie!"

Sam stared. "That doesn't even make sense, Dean."

"Oh, right. Those chicks are totally lesbians, aren't they." He blew a raspberry. _Awkward. _"Well, fine. I'll be Charlie Brown, which makes you my younger sister Sally."

"No, you said I'm Linus, which makes you-"

"Sam! Please! You're killing me, man."

"Lucy _is_ extremely bossy."

Dean covered his ears. _WHO THE HELL EVEN LIKES PEANUTS?_

Sam snorted. "Though on any given day you're probably more like Calvin."

Dean perked up. "That makes you a stuffed tiger! Ahaha! You suck!"

"Hey, Hobbes is _nice_, you inhumane stuffed-animal abuser!"

"I don't wanna hear it from someone who's got cotton for brains!"

"Well cotton makes a lot more sense than squished worms and boogers, or whatever you've got up there!"

"I have _real_ fun! Go have a fake tea party if you don't like it! Go play with stupid sissy Susie!"

"You're Susie!"

"Nuh-uh, bat brains!"

"Nincompoop!"

"Nerf-herder!"

"Grandma!"

"Tooth fairy!"

"Midget!"

"No, wait a minute," Dean was suddenly completely serious. "You're Susie Derkins! And I have a secret crush on you."_  
_

Sam ran away. Dean was definitely a martian.

...

When he came back, the motel was full of arguing voices. From outside the door, Sam thought they all sounded like Dean, but it was difficult to be sure. He noted a large cardboard box under the front wheel of the Impala. It looked like it had been chewed up by weasels, then stomped on by a herd of elephants, then jizzed on by a bunch of deranged seamonkeys. Which, of course, were brine shrimp, except in Dean's world. Sam sighed. On the side of the box, a single, unholy incantation was scrawled:

**DuPLicatoR.**

"Oh dear," Sam said, scratching his whiskers. Knowing he was the last hope for the galaxy, he reached into his pants and drew out a stub from the ballet, which he'd missed on account of a particularly annoying poltergeist with a British accent and a penchant for throwing chalk. Sam regretted missing the ballet, though he'd never actually been able to make it. _Dean would call it a chick thing, but what does he know?_ Sam thought. _Artists use their bodies to express deeper meanings... a concept Dean only knows as..._ Sam cleared his throat and scrawled on the back of it:

**Dean/Calvin, listen to me.**

**You've got to snap out of it. I didn't mean any of those things I said. You know we were just angry.**

**I miss you, Dean, and just want you back... whole, and, um, sane, if that's possible.**

**But I know it may not be, and I'll accept you for who you are now. I promise.**

**As long as there is only one of you.**

**Love, Sam.**

**P.S., You really do look like Peppermint Patty when you wear man-shorts.**

**P.P.S., If you refuse to meet me halfway on this, I will be forced to impound 'Baby.' I've already taken her captive. If you decide to wage war against me, I will drool on the headrests, and let all the air out of the tires, so help me... well, you know.**

**P.P.P.S., In case you didn't get it, since you're kinda slow sometimes, by 'Baby,' I meant the Impala. AKA, _The Millenium Falcon_, AKA - I'm sorry, Dean, I just can't bring myself to write such an X-Rated Nickname on paper. It makes me blush.**

**P.P.P.P.S., I hope you understand my meaning. And don't call me 'Chuck.'**

Sam slid the note under the motel room door and waited.

...

Dean opened the door slowly. "Sammy?" he whispered.

Sam tried to push the door open, but Dean had the door chain locked. "Sam, it's like I don't even know you anymore. I mean, how the hell did you write so small? I'm gonna need a microscope to read this. You call this a peace treaty? Get me a microscope! And some pie. Man, I'm hungry enough to eat for twenty people."

Sam gulped. This was worse than the octo-mom.

The world was really ending this time.

...


End file.
